City of Vice The Crisis
by Povallsky
Summary: The Vercetti mansion has the mother of all morning after the night befores after the celebrations of the gangs stealing 100,000s worth of firearms, finding dead men in the bath tub, and prior warning to a surprise visit by the police. Strong language.
1. Morning

**City of Vice – The Crisis**

**Chapter one, Morning**

Morning. It's exactly 8:35 am. Lance Vance knew this because his radio alarm was filling his heavy head with more noise than it could cope with. Normally, he wouldn't have complained to be listening to Laura Braningan but Self Control was something Lance wasn't blessed with when hung over to hell. The radio didn't bounce off his wall too well. The pieces that hit the floor did.

"I need water." he said in his best baritone. To say he needed sobering up was to understate the situation. Last night had been a blast. The Vercetti gang had just pulled off the biggest heist in Vice City history and got away clean and easy. To celebrate would have been in poor taste, what with twenty men dead inside the arms depot and several million dollars worth of guns scattered all over Vercetti mansion in various boxes just waiting for the right buyer. To hit the Malibu, close the place early and indulge in the free bar, the free food and the free girls was however, not quite so much acceptable as much as it was expected. The whole gang had arrived at 1 am. The whole place was empty of punters at 1:03. Tommy had shoed them off the dance floor, herded them out the door, told the staff to take the night off and opened the bar as a free-for-all-and-drink-it-dry to anyone left. Closing in on 4 am and the bar running on empty, the gang had staggered back to their various residencies, Lance being driven back to Vercetti mansion where he had a room. Lance ran through the drinks he'd had in his head. He was remembering the 20th when something caused him to stop. He had opened the bathroom door, and idly walked in and turned on the tap. What caused him to stop was that at that very moment he had noticed his water was red. Blood red. He turned off the tap, put the glass in the sink and steadied his breathing. He knew that when he looked up and actually took note of the room something was going to shock him. He had no idea how shocked he was going to be. Lance began looking around the room slowly. He had turned his head to the bath when he gave up looking and walked hurriedly out of the bathroom and burst into Tommy's bedroom.

"Oh dear GOD Lance you scared the hell outta me!" Tommy Vercetti bolted upright in bed, like a bear trap springing into action. "What's the matter?"

"There's a situation that requires your immediate attention Tommy. I mean it, this shit's serious!"

"Calm down will ya? Mercedes, babe, stay here ok I'll be back in a few minutes." Tommy turned to his wife Mercedes and kissed her forehead. She looked at Tommy and lay back down in bed. "What is it Lance?" Tommy asked as he pulled on some trousers and followed his friend out of the bedroom.

"That, Tommy, is what it is." Lance said, pushing the door of the bathroom wide enough for Tommy to see. After a long pause, Tommy looked at Lance. That day was the first day Lance ever saw Tommy with fear and horror in his eyes. All that death, all that running from the law, the jobs, the shootings, the beatings, the crime, and yet Tommy had always looked cool calm and collected. But not that day. Tommy's eyes betrayed him that day. Lance saw it and he knew Tommy knew he saw it.

The bathroom was awash with blood. There were two corpses, one was lying in the bath, his face underneath a deep pool of blood that was blocked by something from draining away through the plug hole, the other chained by his hands to the rail above the bath where the curtain ran, hanging over the once white porcelain swaying, as gently as rigor mortis will allow, on account of the absence of his legs. They lay crossed over the back of the man face down in the tub, just above the chainsaw sticking out of his back.

"Oh fuck." Tommy broke the silence that hung over the two of them like a heavy fog, atmosphere thick with apprehension and fear. "No way we didn't hear any of this happening! No fucking WAY!"

"Sorry Tommy, we had to. Me and you are the only people with rooms on this level and I know I fell unconscious the moment I hit the mattress. Everyone else carried the party on downstairs for a while, but I don't know for how long."

"I didn't come into the house for an hour or so after the Malibu, Mercedes and I got intermit in the maze out back before we headed for bed."

"Bathroom look ok when you got back in?"

"Couldn't tell you, I didn't use it. Wasn't the right room to be headed for, action was elsewhere if you get me." Tommy sounded half way between bragging and panicking, like he was utterly at a loss with what to do next. Lucky for Tommy he had the whole day to figure out what to do. The smell of blood was starting to get to him so he closed the door and headed back to the landing. He was about to suggest a plan of action to Lance when he heard the phone ring, and then Mercedes call him from the bedroom. "I gotta get that. We'll talk about this in a minute." Making his way to the phone, Tommy picked the receiver from his wife's hand and placed the listening end to his ear. "Hello?"

"Tommy man, I'm so so sorry for this, calling you at this time in the morning and all but it's pretty damn urgent. You gotta situation you need to act on right now!"

"You can say that again H, I gotta real sticky sitch here that ain't gonna go away on its own. Can this not wait?"

"Not a chance Tommy. Someone, and I don't know who yet, tipped the police off about the raid last night. They're coming to your house, and they're gonna be looking for anything that could tie you to last night. ANYTHING Tommy, you even got one single unregistered gun in your whole damn house they'll haul you in like a stray dog and put you away for anything that'll stick. You can expect them in probably three hours."

"Shit shit shit!" Tommy had gotten redder and redder, as he remained silent, letting the man on the other end of the phone say his piece. "Find out who the FUCK tipped them off and let me know the second you do." He slammed the phone down. "Lance, you need to sort this bathroom out. And fast."

"WHAT! You cannot be serious. Tommy how the fuck am I supposed to deal with this?"

"Shut up for one Goddamn minute will you, I'm trying to give you a head start." Tommy picked up the phone again and punched in Ken's number.

"Rosenberg Office, h-how may I help you?"

"Ken, it's Tommy, look I've got a real sticky sitch here at the mansion and I need you to call someone who cleans things up in a hurry, if you know what I mean. Send him over as soon as you can, Lance'll be waiting for him. I gotta go work out a little bit of business." Tommy put the phone back again. "You need people tell 'em they're on my orders to help you out. Anyone found answering back" Tommy pulled out a gun and cocked it "let 'em know I'll fire 'em. Oh, and you're on a time limit. A tight one. Three hours, not a minute more you understand? We gotta get every single illegal firearm outta this house and clean that bathroom so it looks like nothing ever happened or the cops that are coming round might have a few things to say."

"WHAT! What they get tipped off or something?"

"Yup. You're in charge Lance, don't let me down." Under his breath Tommy added "For God's sake and mine Lance, don't let me down." Tommy left the house quickly, buttoning his shirt up on the way to the door. The engine on his Infernus hummed and purred like a big white cat, silky and sexy and powerful all at once. Her wheels squealed as his foot met the floor, pedal in between, and he pulled out onto the road in the direction of the docks.


	2. The Pale Man

**City of Vice – The Crisis**

**Chapter two, The Pale Man**

Tommy grabbed his cell phone from its cradle in his car. He could hear it ringing on the other end. "Come on, answer, please answer." Tommy thought to himself. He suddenly realised he was speeding by plenty enough to land him in jail, and slowed down. He heard the click and the familiar voice on the other end.

"Hello?"

"Colonel, it's Tommy. I gotta situation on my hands, and I need to ask your help."

"Tommy, slow down, what is the matter?" the colonel sounded sincere in his concern.

"I need to shift $100,000 worth of illegal guns and grenades in the next two hours, please tell me you're docked here."

"Tommy, docked or not, why would I want that many weapons?"

"Please, colonel, a favour for a friend."

"OK. I can move for you $30,000. But no more. This helps?"

"Come colonel I gotta shift three times that, you gotta take more!"

"No Tommy, no, I take no more than 30. You take it or leave it, the choice is yours."

"Fine, I'll take it."

"Tommy, I am meeting an associate today, in the city, I am sure that if you asked him he would say the same as me. I will give you his number when I see you at the docks." Tommy and the colonel proceeded to make arrangements to meet in the next few minutes at the docks, and discuss shipping arrangements.

The Vercetti Mansion doorbell rang. Lance's heart leapt to his mouth. "Stupid, that's the clean up guy." He told himself. The man that stood on the step was as pale as milk, with wispy black hair brushed backwards over his head, greased to keep it in place. He wore a black suit, devoid of any detail, and you could have seen your face in his shoes. He had with him a suitcase, and were it not for the absence of an umbrella Lance would have sworn the man was an English civil servant. He stood motionless for what seemed like hours to Lance, then broke the silence by curling his thin pale lips to perfectly pronounce the words

"Where is the mess?".

Lance was taken back by the sheer British ness of his voice, the slightly nasal tone one might expect of a habitual stoner, the way his upper lip seemed to offer no support to the precise vowels and consonants, but merely stayed perfectly stiff. The man repeated himself.

"Oh, sorry" said Lance, "follow me." He turned on his heel and headed up the stairs. Lance pushed the bathroom door open and moved back, allowing the pale man to survey the scene. He stood perfectly still, save for the movement of his eyes, and after what was roughly a full minute said

"Do everything I say and this will be fine. We HAVE two and a half hours. We NEED six pairs of hands, and I will require $5000 up front no questions asked."

"Ok, done and done." Lance closed the bathroom door. "Hey, Mercedes?" the lady in question put her head round her door. "Hey, why don't you get yourself out into the city, do some shopping or something? Just, it's gonna get a little crazy today."

"You want me out from under your feet? I get it, gimme a minute." A minute later Mercedes walked out of her bedroom and headed down the stairs. "See you later Vance." She called as she pulled the door behind her.

Lance grabbed the phone and started calling reliable pairs of hands. He put the phone down after the first call and saw the pale man leaving the house. "Where the hell is he going?" he thought to himself. Five minutes later six of Tommy's best men were mansion bound.

"Avery, hey, look I gotta shift some guns and…no, you sure?…you owe me man come on…fine!" "Kent, I'm looking for buyers…guns and grenades…yeah? I'll do them for ya at cut price…no? fuck you Kent you owe me! Fine!" "Mitch, look you gotta need some guns right?…last week?…so you not after anymore?…fuck!" Tommy slammed his phone down after his fifth unsuccessful call. $300,000 worth of illegal firearms and nobody wanted them. Then Tommy had a brainwave. He remembered H saying something about some small fry gang near the studios, causing a little too much noise and getting the wrong attention. He picked up his phone and called H. "H, I want you to do something for me. I want you to get that little small fry gang near the studios raided. You go tonight and you'll find lots of illegal guns, all stolen from the army weapons depot in Vice last night. Just remember, you got an anonymous tip-off yeah?" Tommy put his phone back in its cradle, put the Infernus in gear and screeched off in the direction of the film studios.

The pale man didn't so much walk up the stairs as he did creep up them. Everything this man did made Lance nervous. He looked over his shoulder as the man began to curl his bottom lip around some more perfectly formed words.

"Gentlemen, the boat has arrived." He crept back down the stairs. Lance couldn't figure out how this guy could organise all this in such short a time but he had. Lance looked around the room; 14 hands scrubbing as fast and hard as any of them was likely to had made light work of the blood stained surfaces. The bathroom was white again. The bodies of the two unfortunate men had been bagged up along with the chainsaw and every piece of fabric in the room. Light poured in from the window and sweat glistened on seven heads. The smell of blood was still as present as ever, and Lance knew that something was going to have to be done with the drains to help that. The pale man came back into the room.

"OK gentlemen, there is coffee made and on the counter downstairs. I would like for you to add milk and sugar as you please and then bring your drinks back up here for the second phase of the work. The smell in this room will linger for a long time; we need to get rid of the blood to get rid of the smell. To that, we need to pull out the drains."

Downstairs, Lance began his tentative investigation into the identities of the two dead men and what happened to them.

"So, who were they?"

"I don't know Lance."

"Well, did you hear anything? Chainsaw ain't quiet you know."

"No Lance, I didn't hear anything."

"Nobody! Not a single one of you know anything?" Lance was exhausted. Hard work following by serious stone walling from a bunch of his own gang hadn't put him a good mood either.

"Well, I do kinda know something Lance." One voice piped up from within the room. "You see, after the Malibu me and a couple of others went for a drive. 4 am nobody's out right? Well, we see these two guys walking around and decide to have some fun. We pull over and ask them if they're looking to score, you know drugs. They say sure so we reel them into walking right up to the car. One second later, they're in the car unconscious and we're speeding here. When we got in it must've been like 5:30. Everyone was knocked out, and I went the same way as soon as I got in the house. Dunno what happened with the other two guys or the ones we picked up." He shuffled on his feet, obviously embarrassed to tell the story.

"You remember who the other people in the car were?" Lance asked gently.

"No. I barely remember the COLOUR of the car, let alone who was in it." He looked at his feet. "Sorry." He mumbled in a barely audible voice.

"I need you back upstairs now gentlemen." The pale man's shill Brit pierced its way through the halls like a thousand nails on blackboards.

Tommy halted his car just outside a derelict house two minutes away from the studios. His big white cat purred, barely audible over the wind. He put her in park and pulled the key from the ignition. Looking around, Tommy surveyed his surroundings. There was a tree with no leaves, a small green hill, a large house with an ornate entrance and the markings of vehicles having driven all over the grass around the house. There was a shotgun pointed at Tommy's head, and a man wearing a denim jacket and a red headband holding it. There was the sound of a van being driven quite close to Tommy's car, as it pulled up behind him to put off any escape attempts. And, there was a man shouting

"Get your fucking hands up punk, or I'll take off your fucking head!"


	3. Luigi Salvatore

**City of Vice – The Crisis**

**Chapter three, Luigi Salvatore**

"Ok, ok, take it easy pal." Tommy put his hands up against his windscreen. The man holding the shotgun reached into the car, found Tommy's Colt in its holster on his side and pulled it out. As he was placing the gun in his pocket Tommy said "Be careful with that thing, I don't put the safety on you know."

"Shut up and get outta the car!" The shotgun made jabbing motions at Tommy's face. He unlocked the door, swung it open and stepped out onto the brown muddy grass. The shotgun found its way into the small of Tommy's back and he was marched into a derelict house, its windows boarded up and plaster falling off every exterior wall. As soon as the door was opened Tommy realised that the house was anything but derelict. The house inside was as beautiful a house as you could have wished for; dirty but ornate and beautiful. He looked around as he was marched through a long hallway, lined with paintings and littered with mud, leaves and bits of plaster. He was turned left, lead through a double door, the knob gilded and the wood carved, and arrived into what must have been a ballroom. Chandeliers hung from the ceiling, what was left of their crystal gleaming in the daylight. Peeling gold leaf glowed off every touch of decoration to the plaster ceiling and pillars. The silver on the tables shimmered through the dust, as the emerald green and ruby red left in the stained glass window covered the floor in iridescent rainbows. No sooner had he taken in the sights of the ballroom was Tommy pushed up some stairs, a hidden case most likely for the servants at one time, and thrown through a simple wooden door. He hit the dusty floor two feet away from a desk, and coughing the dirt from his lungs looked up to see a man who was presumably the leader of the pack. He wore a suit, pinstripe black with red, and was wearing the same headband as the shotgun, wrapped tightly around his wrist. He took Tommy's Colt from the desk where it had been placed by its escort, fondled it in his hands and then pointed it at its owner's head. He pulled back the hammer with his thumb and slowly got round to saying

"Who are you?".

Lance was pretty much sick of chipping tiles off the walls, rolling curtains and mats into bin liners and drinking lukewarm coffee by the mug full. He looked over at the pale man in his pristine suit, then at the blood stained sweat soaked clothes he'd woken up in. That shirt had been one of his favourites. He knew he could just go and buy it again, Rafael's would be able to get him another no problem, it was just that he'd had so many good times in _this _one. It was a beautiful shirt, yellow silk with white pin stripes here and there. The collar was as big as it could be, and it didn't even have buttons on the upper half. He had a jacket to match it, white with yellow thread, and trousers to complete the look. Except now he had to go get a whole new shirt. He had at least saved the rest of the suit by crawling out of it the night before. The garish red and green flowery shorts didn't look so good, but Lance could at least ruin them and not care. He looked over at the pale man again, still leaning talking on his cell phone. Why wasn't he helping? What made him exempt from getting his hands dirty? He was getting paid thousand of dollars and for what? Standing around? He thought about saying something, but it didn't go well in his head; he stayed quiet and worked on. His thoughts turned to Mercedes. The poor girl had to put up with some real poor quality shit. Imagine waking up to this, not knowing what's going on or what happened, just being told to go shopping, get out of the house. She loved Tommy, that was plain enough, but this much? She'd had to put up with plenty more before, and there was going to be plenty more to come. Lance put the thought from his mind; he didn't like thinking of the future. He thought about where Tommy was now, how his search for buyers was going.

"I'll say it again, who are you?" The Python looked at Tommy longingly, desperate for an answer. Tommy looked at it back, and quickly thought on his belly.

"Me? I'm Luigi, Luigi Salvatore. I'm here on business from Italy." Tommy played up his accent as best he could. The guard that had brought him in had left, and nobody else had heard him speak until now. He waited to see if it had worked. It had. "Why, who are you?" He added.

"HAH! Attitude, you gotta love it. I am Andreas Traxler, and I too am here on business. What business are _you_ on Mr Salvatore?"

"I was selling something here in Vice, to a gang, but the bastards tried to screw me over. They ambushed the deal and we fled. I arrived here, and my courier is somewhere else. Maybe I can call him, he has a cell, he could bring you the goods?"

"What you selling Luigi?"

"Arms. Top quality, mint condition arms. M16s, AK47s, PSG1s, Berettas, grenades, plus many attachments and ammunitions. And all for no more than, shall we say, $40,000?" Tommy was stood up now and had been offered a seat opposite Andreas. He leaned over the desk as he offered the price, and looked directly at the man's face. At first it didn't reveal a thing. But then Tommy noticed a twitch, a tiny little tell in the face. His left eyebrow moved, if only minutely and for half a second, it was enough to tell Tommy that he was interested, and could be forced into a deal.

"40 is too much, we settle for 30." Tommy didn't move a muscle. He stared straight at Andreas.

"No way, these arms are worth at least 45-50, you think I'm gonna settle for anything less than 35 you're crazy."

"HAH! I love your attitude Luigi, no nonsense straight to the point. But why so low? If I had guns worth $50,000 I would not settle for anything less than $50,000. You know something we don't?"

"No, nothing like that. I have to leave for Italy tomorrow, and I can't very well head home carrying $50,000 worth of guns and grenades can I?" Tommy looked sincere, Andreas bought it. Tommy decided to press hard and force the sell. "So look, Mr Traxler, we have a deal here at $37,500 yes? I really cannot go lower, I must take something home to show the family, you understand."

"I understand you said you'd hit 35. You sell at 35 you got a deal." This guy wasn't as dumb as Tommy thought. He was going to buy the guns, he was interested alright, but he wasn't about to get ripped off. Tommy almost felt bad about what he was doing here, but put the thought from his head.

"$35,000? Very well, I sell at 35. You drive a hard bargain Mr Traxler. I trust you can pay me now? Suitcases look much less suspect on the plane home than large khaki bags." Tommy forced a little laugh, Andreas chuckled with him.

"You get on your cell, get those goods here first. We'll pay you when we're holding the guns." Andreas had gone from pleasant to serious in half a second. That was how he'd become a gang leader then Tommy surmised. "I got the funds don't you worry about that."

Tommy pulled his cell phone from his jacket pocket, dialled in a number and waited for the answer on the other end.

The phone was ringing. Lance dried his hands, made his way to the nearest telephone in the house and picked it up.

"Hello?"

"Hey, Tony, it's Luigi" it was Tommy, calling himself Luigi in an Italian accent. Lance showed signs of confusion but decided to let things develop; you never know he told himself, it might explain itself yet. "I'm with a guy called Mr Traxler, he's gonna buy our product." The guns. Lance still had no idea why Luigi was calling him, but he did now know at least that Tommy had found a buyer.

"Ok Luigi, how much they getting?"

"Sorry, you're breaking up there Tony, say that again."

Lance worked out quickly that there was something going on on the other end of the phone. Obviously how many guns they were getting was something Tommy couldn't say. "Sorry Luigi, is the colonel buying any guns?"

"Aha, yeah" Tommy was doing his best to make this sound like the conversation it wasn't.

"Ok, and anybody else?"

"Yup, right ok. I'm over by the Film Studios, there's a house on the other side of the road, you'll see my car outside. But hurry up Tony, you now what they say, time is money."

"So are these guys you're with now getting a third of the guns?"

"No, no it's ok, so it's gonna take you what like 40 minutes to get here?"

"40? Ok man, I'm on it."

"10 minutes? My mistake Tony, see you soon."

Click. Lance put his phone on the base. "Tony?" He yelled into the house. Thirty seconds later a man almost as dirty as Lance arrived at his side. "Go change, give your dirty clothes to that British creep and take about $40,000 worth of guns from the raid last night to the derelict house near the studios, ok? And be quick about it, time is money." Tony rushed off leaving Lance to head back to the bathroom. He checked the time on the clock on the landing; they had an hour. The phone started ringing again.

"Hello?"

"Hey, is Tommy there?"  
"No, he's out on business, I can take a message."

"Ok, look it's H here, those guys that he's expecting round in about an hour's time? They've changed their schedule."

"Better or worse?"

"Worse. You can expect them in about 25 minutes."


	4. Ocean Beach to Downtown

**City of Vice – The Crisis**

**Chapter four, Ocean Beach to Downtown**

"You gotta be kidding? 25 minutes!" Lance was shouting, his anger borne of his frustration at the situation at hand.

"HEY! Listen, I'm just the messenger here, don't shoot the fucking messenger."

"Sorry H, it's just, you know, this makes things even worse than they were." Lance glanced back over at the bathroom, another full black bag walked towards the stairs, most likely filled with bits of plaster stained with blood and the curtains from the window. "Wait a minute, there anything we can do to stall them?"

"Not really, they think they're being stalled they'll suspect even more." H sounded sincere, it was a warning Lance heeded. Then, suddenly, Lance was struck with an idea.

"What car do they drive?"

Tommy looked at his watch, he'd been sat with Andreas for 5 minutes too long now and Tony wasn't making his presence known. He looked at Andreas, who was also looking at his watch, and swallowed. Tony was never late, the man was punctual to a fault. A security goon knocked at the office door. He was invited in, and whispered in Andreas' ear. Mr Traxler grinned and pulled a suitcase from a cupboard behind him. Still with his back turned to Tommy he opened a large safe, and after a few moments closed it again. He span round and beamed at Tommy.

"Mr Salvatore, your arms have arrived. Shall we?" He made a gesture toward the door. Tommy and Andreas walked down the servants' stairs surrounded by bodyguards. They passed through the ballroom, the morning light shining through it's broken stained windows, bouncing off the silver and gold that decorated the walls and the ceiling. Even the broken chandelier looked good in this light. They turned and went through the double doors to the hallway, then out of the front door onto the wooden porch. Tony's car was parked next to Tommy's. Tommy was praying in his head Lance had told him not to call him by his real name.

"Sorry I'm late Mr Salvatore, the traffic isn't so hot near the bridge, there's been a pretty major accident." Thank God for that; from here on in it was plain sailing.

"You are the Tony?" Andreas stepped forward and offered a handshake. Tony accepted.

"My name's Tony, yeah."

"You are from Italy also?"

Tommy jumped in. "No, he's my American partner. The family has many ties and extensions, Tony's one of them." He looked straight at Tony, indicated that he should play along.

"I see. Very well, Tony, could I see these weapons I have bought?"

Tony stepped to the boot of his car. He pulled it up and stepped back, allowing Andreas to move closer and see the duffel bags there. Each one was labelled; Colt .45, Beretta, M16, PSG1, Grenade. "All there, as you can see." Tommy said as he joined the party at the car.

"Luigi you have made me a very _very _happy man." Andreas beamed at Tommy, his eyes alight with the joy of a child with a new toy. Tommy opened the suitcase and checked a couple of the stacks of thousands. All in order.

"And you me Andreas. Now, if you'll excuse me, our business here is concluded and I must be on my way." Tommy made his way to his car, it's white paint gleaming in the ever brightening sunlight. Andreas walked over to the car and put his hand on the roof leaning in toward the driver's window; Tommy wound it down.

"Again, thank you for the business. I would like to think that your family and mine are now friends of sorts? After all, you scratch my back…" He left the sentence unfinished, and Tommy nodded. "Excellent! I look forward very much to doing more business with you. Have a safe journey home back to…" He lead Tommy into finishing this one.

"Tuscany." Tommy said quickly. He started his car and drove off towards Vercetti Mansion, Tony following close behind.

"You!" Andreas motioned over a small group denim jackets and red headbands. "Follow them, watch where they go; I do not trust either of those men one inch. You hear how quickly he told me where he was going? And such a well known place too, like he'd thought of it on the spot. That man is not what he seems." The goons did as they were told, and came round from the back of the house riding dirt bikes. They zipped off down the road following the direction of the white Infernus and black Sentinel.

Lance had told the British man that he needed to get some air, and that he'd be back in a few minutes. The British man had looked at Lance like he'd said the rudest word in the world, but eventually relented. Lance's car squealed out of the driveway and set off hunting the dark blue Kuruma that housed the surprise guests. He didn't get much further than the end of the drive. The whole of Starfish Island was grid-locked, and as far as Lance could see, so was the whole of Vice. He tuned his radio until he found a travel broadcast.

"Welcome to Flash FM this is an important travel update. A major accident outside Howlin' Pete's Emporium in Downtown has left almost all of Vice City in gridlock. From Ocean Beach to Downtown's Hyman Memorial Stadium, roads are jammed solid with stationary traffic. Police advice is to avoid using your car if possible, and if stuck in the jams, turn your engine off and stay in or with your vehicle. There have been reports of several cars in the jams breaking down causing further problems. The accident has now been cleared and Police are starting the traffic moving again as best they can." Lance decided to let the traffic jams do their best at keeping the surprise visitors from arrived so soon, and parked his car back in the garage. He rolled up his sleeves and went back to the bathroom.

Tommy and Tony had caught up with the traffic. Tommy had driven around Vice enough to know every nook and cranny of the city, and decided to use his cab driving knowledge to bypass the queues. He swivelled around in his seat and waved Tony's attention. He issued a hand signal that said follow me and peeled out of the jam into an alley way, much to the amazement of Tony and the rest of the cars. Four motorbikes followed Tony after a few seconds. As the two cars came to a slow stop at the end of the alley ready to zip across the road in the next break of traffic and continue their crow's path home, the motorcyclists discussed something several feet away from Tony's car. Tommy saw the break he needed and floored his accelerator, smoking his tyres across the road and into the next alley closely followed by Tony. Suddenly, from out of nowhere, four motorcycles raced alongside them, two either side Tommy's vehicle, two either side Tony's. The bikes kept pace with the cars for the best part of the long alley until all four riders pulled out Uzi's and fired wildly into the cars. Tommy turned hard left, ducked underneath his steering wheel and heard a crash, a cry and then a scraping noise. He blindly threw the wheel to the right but felt only his own car hit the wall. The front wheel buckled and the car slowly grinded to a halt. He could still hear gunshots, and an almighty crash as Tony's Sentinel piled into the back of his own car. Tyres squealed, engines revved high and then there was quiet. Tommy grabbed the shotgun he kept under his seat and pumped it, still hiding under the steering column. Quickly he pulled back to a seated position and saw a man standing on his bonnet. Tommy had no time to aim, he merely pointed the gun upwards and pulled the trigger. The noise deafened him, the glass poured all over his lap, the blood went up like a fountain. There was enough room his side of the car to open the door. Tommy fell out to the concrete hard, clutching the shotgun. One dead body lay twisted on the ground where he had fallen from the bonnet, most of his chest missing his body covered in glass. Another dead body was smeared all over the wall where Tommy had rammed his car into the bike on his left, the bike was bent almost in half stuck to the side of the Infernus. The blood glass and casings on the alley floor caught the sunlight and shimmered. Tommy turned quickly and saw two dirt bikes vanishing into the distance, too far for a shotgun to be effective, and Tony's car shot to pieces; glass and casings everywhere and Tony slumped over the steering wheel. Tommy ran to him.

"TONY?" He pulled open the driver's door. "Tony…" He'd already guessed but didn't want to believe it. There was no life left in Tony's body. Tony was dead. Tommy looked at his car. It wasn't drivable. He looked at Tony's car, but thought better than driving something that looked like target practice down a very busy road, police crawling everywhere getting traffic moving again, sharing the ride with his dead friend.

He knew who had done this to him.

And he knew he was going to make them pay.

Dearly.


	5. A Good Start

**City of Vice – The Crisis**

**Chapter five, A Good Start**

Tommy's ears were ringing so loud they hurt. His left shoulder hurt from hitting the ground as he'd fallen out of the car. He was covered in glass and blood. He was in such a mess his own mother wouldn't have recognised his easily. In one hand he held the shotgun, close to his body, and the other hand held the car phone he had gone back into his car to retrieve so as to call Lance, or somebody. The traffic on the street at the end of the alley was moving quite quickly, as he stumbled onto the pavement a dark blue Kuruma flew past, barely missing him. He saw the car swerve to avoid him, turned the other way and saw the next car coming down the road had performed an emergency stop. Unsure as to whether this was a wise idea or not, Tommy decided that desperate times call for desperate measures. He walked up to the car, pointed the shotgun at the driver through the windscreen and told her to get out. She did so, and without protest. It had been a long time since Tommy Vercetti had stolen a car like this. He didn't exactly enjoy it, but right now, he needed to get home by any means necessary. He threw the shotgun on the passenger seat and dialled the number for the mansion. It rang out. Why? What would be going on that would stop any one of the 6 or so people in that house from picking up the phone?

The pale man was talking into his telephone. Lance couldn't quite make it all out as he was far away, but he could tell that things weren't quite going his way. He thought he heard a ringing, but concentrated on the pale man's conversation. He looked at his watch and frowned; Tommy was taking his time. He'd been gone for far too long for things to be ok, a simple arms deal shouldn't take this long. Two hours was long enough to be gone for business, but not knowing their last hour had become an unknown quantity of time made things even worse. The pale man pushed the off button on his cell hard enough to indicate he was slamming it down. He thrust it into his inside jacket pocket and caught sight of Lance as he made his way back to the bathroom.

"I suppose you heard that?" he sneered at Lance.

"Pretty much." Lance left out the part where he hadn't heard the words.

"Well, it's not to worry really. We should still finish on schedule." Lance's face gave him away. "Is there something wrong Mr Vance? Something I need to know?"

"Well….I gotta phone call ten minutes ago telling us that the detectives were arriving in about 25, they'd set off early I guess. They're probably held up in the traffic but we certainly don't have our last hour." The pale man turned a whiter shade of pale.

"This news is most frustrating." He stayed silent for a brief moment and then suddenly said "I have an idea, with me."

Lance and the Brit walked quickly to the bathroom. Lance broke the news to the work party to a great cry, but the pale man stepped into the breech and calmed the men.

"Listen to me! If we work non-stop for the next 20 minutes we can make this bathroom look like it's being completely re-installed. Toilet, sink, shower, even the plaster work all unfinished. It's not suspicious, it's not out of the ordinary. But we need to work fast and hard, and start now." He immediately starting giving orders to the party.

Tommy was speeding. He didn't care, he wouldn't stop for anything right now. He needed to get to the mansion, check up on Lance's progress, be there calm cool and collected when the police arrived but all that could wait. He would be in and out, he had a spare set of clothes in the ground floor gym and there was a sink with a towel there too. Quick wash, change clothes, take the towel with him and burn it then bury it along with the body. The body of the man who had killed Tony. As the Blista Compact slid round the final corner, out of yet another alleyway he had used to beat the grid-locked roads, Tommy saw a car he recognised in his driveway. A car that shouldn't have been there. A car that belonged to Mrs Vercetti…

As Tommy screeched to a halt outside his house he saw Mercedes spin around, stopping short of opening the front door by a whisker. Tommy threw open the car door and ran up the stairs to meet his wife. She ran to meet him and seeing the blood and began asking Tommy if he was ok over and over. He comforted her, put her hands in his and told her he was fine.

"Baby, you can't be in the house right now."

"Fuck Tommy, Lance told me to get out and shop this morning so I did. Now I wanna go inside my own fucking house and sit down!".

"Please, babe, listen to me. We have a real incident to deal with in there, real nasty gory shit that I don't want you to see. Plus, we got cops coming to visit us in about 40 minutes and the less you know…"

"The less I can tell them. Got it Tommy, for the millionth fucking time I got it. I'm sick of it. You want me outta the house, fine. But don't expect me back Tommy. You want me back, you wanna let me in for once in your life, you know my number."

Tommy stood staring at the spot where Mercedes had been standing. He couldn't believe it. He didn't want to believe it. But it had happened. Mercedes Vercetti had left him. He opened the door and let it close behind him. He fell back and leaned on it, slide to the floor and began to cry.

Lance was covered in sweaty dust, the final bag of rubbish left the room and made its way out back to another boat and as it went, Lance surveyed the work. The bathroom truly looked like it was unfinished, halfway through installation. There was chalk marking the future positions of the bath and the toilet, the walls were bare plaster with pipes sticking out of them, the floor was three quarters covered in floorboards, the other quarter had lose plumbing pipes and floorboards strew around inside the gap. The smell of bleach was noticeable but not to the point of overpowering and unless you knew what had happened last night, there was no way you would suspect a thing. The pale man was good. Damn good. He came back into the room and looked at his work party.

"I need you all to take off all of your clothes, every thread, and put them in this bag," he opened a black sack and offered it to the party "as it's likely that blood may have gotten onto them. Any and every trace of blood removed from the house and the police will have nothing more than an unfinished bathroom to investigate."

"Naked?!" Lance was incredulous at the suggestion.

"Stark." The Brit sneered, he didn't like people questioning his orders. "And now please." He added, an obvious afterthought.

The party began unzipping and unbuttoning trousers and shirts, and before long they all stood naked looking at the Brit.

"Well don't think you can't put other clothes on will you? You'll make the police more suspicious dressed like that when they arrive." He laughed, the first time Lance had seen anything more than the look of a man eating a sour lemon on his face. "I'm leaving Mr Vance," He addressed Lance. "I trust that I have been of service? Although given the time constraints I feel an answer to that question unnecessary, it doesn't matter now whether I have or have not, it is done and ready for the ultimate test. Go and get dressed. I trust I won't see you again." He walked down the stairs and Lance heard the front door open and close, then a muffled engine fade away. The men did as he had suggested and found clothes in Lance's wardrobe. Lance was first dressed and, carrying the final black bag, came downstairs just in time to find Tommy in his new outfit clutching a towel, a bunch of clothes, a Python and his car keys heading for the door.

"Tommy?"

"Can't talk Lance, I got business to take care of." Tommy turned to leave.

"No no, hang on. You were gone for like two hours man, where you get to? I need to tell you that these guests of ours are gonna be early, traffic allowing…" Lance was interrupted by the door bell. "SHIT!" He raced off round the back of the house, threw the bag on board and yelled at the driver "Get the fuck outta here man, now!"

At the same time, Tommy rushed up to his office, opened the safe and locked the bloody towel and outfit in with the gun and came walking down the main staircase for the door. He met Lance in the hallway and looked him in the eye.

"You ready for this?"

"Absolutely Tommy, bring it on."

Tommy reached out for the door handle and turned it. The door opened and there stood three men in cheap suits.

"Good morning Mr Vercetti, may we come in?"

"Why, who are you?" Tommy looked at the men in turn. The pale blue suit was the most garish, although the brown one wasn't much to look at either. None of them had shoes that went with their attire and collectively they looked like they hadn't had one good haircut since they paid for their own. The burgundy jacket man reached into his inside pocket and pulled out a folded piece of paper. He held it at the top and let gravity unfold it.

"We, Mr Vercetti, are the police. This, Mr Vercetti, is a warrant. We are searching your house." He pushed the warrant into Tommy's hands.

The blue suit stepped forward and looked at Tommy curiously. He let the other two walk in past him and then as he stepped past Tommy said quietly

"That your car abandoned in the driveway Mr Vercetti? Only last time I saw you, you drove a flashier model." As he brushed past, Tommy looked out of the door and saw the green Blista and the skid marks. Shit, he thought to himself. His friend was dead, his car was wrecked, his house was the scene of a brutal double murder and his wife had left him. And the day was just beginning. Things were off to a good start…


	6. The Family We Choose

**City of Vice – The Crisis**

**Chapter six, The Family We Choose**

Tommy was desperate to leave, the worry of the discovery of the bathroom and the secret it now held was matched only by that of the discovery of an alleyway not more than a mile and a half away filled with death. He couldn't stomach either mental image; the men in his bath sitting with their limbs and insides made his guts turn from revulsion; Tony slumped over his steering wheel filled with bullets, sitting in a pool of his own blood and piled on heavy with glass and burnt fabric brought with it intense grief and shock. It was true to say he had never been close to Tony, he had never really been close to anyone other than Mercedes and now she was gone too, but Tony was a loyal soldier and Tommy felt the grief of a General who sent those he felt closest to into a battle he was sure to win only to watch them die. Tony wasn't a friend, but he wasn't a mere henchman either, he had always been more than that. Tommy found it hard to express in his head exactly what Tony had been, but it didn't make his death easier to handle. He had known little of Tony outside of the gang. He had had a wife, Tommy knew that much, maybe a child. He had been ruthless in his dealings with those he disliked, once killing a man with his bare hands for little more reason than he insulted Tony's wife. And yet, for all his shocking lack of morality and scruples he had clearly adored his wife and doted on her. Never had a penny of his own, never bought new things for himself. Everything that was Tony's was hers also, and he always put her above himself. Tommy remembered this had been most evident when Tony had picked up his cut of an extremely successful bank job a couple of years ago when $10,000 was massive money. He had walked off with his $1,666 and arrived the next day in the same car, wearing the same clothes but overflowing with giddy happiness. He had gone home via a jewellers, bought her an engagement ring worth just over $1,500 and she had said yes. Everyone else had bought new suits, new cars, new furniture but not Tony; his money was for her, his then wife-to-be and so it remained for the course of his career. If you had asked him two years ago Tommy would have called him family, but now he wasn't so sure what to call him.

"What's up with the bathroom then Vercetti?!"

The sudden nature of the noise had startled him and he took a few seconds to come back to the room.

"I said..."

"I heard." Tommy interupted irritably "I fancied a change so I got a man in, he's redoing the whole lot; new suite, new walls, new floor, new windows, the works. I got his number if you think you can afford him..."

"Thanks but no thanks Tommy, the day I take recommendations off you"

"Will be the day you finally get a pay rise?" Tommy finished the sentence for him, the look on the blue suit's face suggested he had hit a nerve.

Slowly but surely the police turned over every single room in the house, from gym and sauna downstairs (Tommy had tried to point out that the guns being hidden in a working sauna was the silliest idea they had had since they looked in the freezer. Or the pool.), through kitchen and hallway, all the way up to the helipad on the roof. As they searched Tommy's fears of their finding anything were put to rest, especially after they ignored the bathroom, and yet his fear for the alley, his fear that any second they would recieve a phone call telling them that his green CAR, two dark blue Sanchez dirt bikes, a black Sentinal and three bodies had been found in an alleyway in Washington Beach, less than two miles from his Mansion sat like a weight in his gut. Inept they may be, but Tommy didn't like to think of these suits as being stupid enough not to work out that the alley plus the Blista Compact in the drive, the soon to be reported stolen Blista Compact, with its skid marks would all suggest circumstances less than favourable to himself. He steeled himself against this event, but without need. After a long forty five minutes the police men left with not a shred of evidence to suggest anything other than Mr Vercetti is a tidy man with a bathroom being fitted. This however, did not solve the problem of the alleyway.

"What are we going to do?!" Lance asked Tommy after having finally got the full story out his two hour disappearance ealier in the day.

"Make the bastards pay." Tommy looked positively evil as he hissed at Lance.

"How?" Lance was more than a little hesistant to ask the question, as he was sure he wouldn't like the answer.

"First things first Lance, we gotta find out exactly what the deal is with our Mr Traxler. Where he's from, why he's here, who he thinks he is and more importantly: who his connections are. Last thing I wanna do is go storming in like some gun crazed loon and shoot up some Russian Mafioso or European big deal." Tommy sounded concerned at the possibility "No, we gotta get in touch with H, find out all about him, including exactly why he didn't trust me. Then, and only then do we fuck him up."

"Not a good time Tommy, really not a good time" H was unnaturally nervous. "I only just got away with phoning you earlier to tell you about the change of schedule, don't put me eye deep in the shit again will you?"

"It's cool H, listen. I just need a little info on someone called Andreas Traxler. He's head of that small fry gang I called about this morning."

"Oh come on Tommy, you know that's not easy for me these days. I mean, I know I get the goods a lot of the time but they suspect something's fishy about me; makes things harder you know?" His nerves were cracking his voice.

"You think I hadn't noticed?" Tommy was trying to keep his cool. "Listen to me and listen good, this faggot Traxler just tried to have me killed. He succeeded in taking out Tony, he very nearly got me as well. Lucky for me I was better at killing his men than his men were at killing me. So now, right now with the police swarming the entire fucking city clearing the roads of the gridlock of the morning you have an alleyway containing the bodies of three men, hundreds of bullets and casings from three different guns, one wrecked motorcycle, one wrecked Sentinal and one wrecked Infernus that will trace straight back to me thanks in no small part to the lisence plates that read T V 86" Keeping his cool wasn't working, his anger was taking over. "I can plead slef defence til the end of time H and those bastards that pick me up and charge me would probably have me for three counts of murder. They wouldn't care that Tony was one of my closest soldiers. They wouldn't care that the Uzis weren't mine. They wouldn't care that I was clearly trying to survive an attempt on my own life. They'd thrown away the fucking key!"

"Tommy, please, calm down man I'll see what I can get for you." H was clearly only saying what Tommy wanted to hear, his voice was shakey and his nerves betrayed him. "Keep your phone close and I'll call you when I can."

"Don't bother H, you've got half an hour then I'm coming to see you. Personally."

Tommy and Lance arrived exactly on time at the Police station thanks to a little cabbie knowledge from Tommy and Lance's powerful engine. As he turned the ignition key and removed it from the steering column the 's engine shuddered to a halt and clicked and popped as it cooled. Tommy attracted as many stares as he had expected as he walked through the front door of the station, and it took the officer on the desk a moment to reply to his question. He was lead down a corridor behind a locked door, and into a large office space featuring desks with phones ringing on each one, paper was everywhere and in a room in the corner separated from the noise by glass a man in a cheap suit was hopping up and down and giving another three men in suits hell. Tommy smiled and followed the officer around another corner into another room, this time smaller and without any desks and waited. He and Lance didn't speak in this time, the mood was one of foreboding and apprehension. After a full five minutes the door that had closed on them opened again and a slightly deshevilled police officer wearing a uniform that didn't quite fit properly with thread bare elbows and hair that, no matter how short it had been cut still managed to look wild stood before them. His name badge was visible and as the door closed and his silhouette turned into a dull realisation of the man Lance had come to know only as H he tried in vain to read it. Before he could the man had leapt forwards and without even a hello or how are you began arguing extremely loudly with Tommy.

"THIS IS MY WORK, MY JOB!! YOU FUCK THIS UP FOR ME AND I'M FINISHED! AND I DON'T JUST MEAN HERE EITHER, I MEAN WITH MY WIFE, MY KIDS, MY PARENTS. EVERYONE WILL DISOWN ME, JAIL WOULDN'T BE FRIENDLY TO A COP AND..."

"H, shut up." Tommy spoke cooly and yet cut through the noise like a triangle from an orchestra pit. "Listen very carefully to me H" he leaned closer "I would never let you go to jail, you understand? You think I wouldn't reward your risks, your service, your loyalty? How many other cops do you think I tried to keep in my pocket after I made myself who I am today? How many of them stayed with me rather than flee the scene? Remember that week when nearly 20 cops quit, transfered or just disappeared? All of them were on my payroll and got cold feet. That rumour that went round about the DA and Internal Affairs knowing about me and my bent cops was all lies, but it sure as shit worked didn't it? How many of that 20 do you think were tracked, tried and found guilty? Every last one of them. But not you. You stayed strong, stayed loyal so I protected you. You can't deny that H, I looked after you when all was darkness and despair. I pulled you out of your black place and got you a desk job, saved your life and you paid me back in full. Paid me back so much I was left owing you. I didn't want you to get shot, to lose your beat but they won't put you back in the street. I tried, I pulled strings and did everything I could but they wouldn't budge. They were going to let you retire, full pension, but you wouldn't take it. Bullet in the hip isn't something you walk off H, and it's something you can even walk at all. If I hadn't given my men that order to not kill you, if I hadn't sensed your death wasn't needed, that to shoot you as you lay wounded beyond stopping us would have made us something we were not - evil - you wouldn't even be alive. You're practically family H, and I'm always going to look after you. Always." The two men exchanged a look that spoke volumes. Lance had never known this story, never understood the bond between them. But here it was, laid out in full and thrown down on the table. H looked at the table as if he could see it, then back at Tommy. He tried to stifle the tear that formed in his right eye but couldn't and within moments he was crying, sobbing hard against Tommy's chest as he hugged him, sobbing so hard that his words were almost lost:

"Thankyou Tommy."


	7. A Common Ally

**City of Vice – The Crisis**

**Chapter seven, A Common Ally**

Tommy and Lance walked slowly down the stairs to the car park and in silence fired up the Infernus. It sat in the lot vibrating softly, its engine and the minds of its occupants ticking over. So many things had been said, so many things needed thinking about, Tommy and Lance's heads were churning. After a few minutes of silence Lance clicked the car into gear and slowly set off for the Mansion. The roads were much clearer now, the gridlock of the morning was all but a memory, and their progress was unhampered all the way back. Until Tommy suddenly spoke.

"Turn left"

Lance did not question, he had learned not to, and turned left as instructed. Following a few more directions the car tilted to the left, the right, and the right again. Lance found himself in an alley way, battered bins and cardboard boxes strew across the ground, the metal fire escape stair case that looked less safe than the fire it would save you from looming over them to the right, rust collecting in great sheets on the floor below it. There were holes and scratches in and all over the walls and floor and the remenents of a dark liquid spilled over them. General detritis was nearly indistinguishable from the tiny fragments of glass, lead, bone and flesh that were too small to clean up. Water ran into the drains, a filthy film of bubbles on top, the colour of dirt and squalor. The alley looked like it had been someone's home once, but Lance wondered if whoever had lived here before would dare live here again. He didn't want to drive any further into the alley for fear of the cleaning he would need to do afterwards but Tommy didn't force him; together they stepped out of the car and walked hesitantly forwards towards the thick of the action. Tommy was looking pale, memories playing through his head like snuff film but more real as he had been there. His mouth hung half open and his breathing was shallow and stifled. Lance stayed back a little, allowing Tommy to satisfy whatever urge or need it was that had brought him here in solidarity.

"It's clean"

Tommy's words were obvious and yet Lance understood exactly what he meant. The alley was completely clean, little to no trace of the triple homicide that had taken place little more than a few hours ago. The obviousness of the words suggested so many deeper questions; how had the incident gone unnoticed? Who was it who had cleaned up the mess? Where were the cars, the bodies, the bullets and casings? Tommy's mouth formed one more word, as if it were all he were able to say, a command as much as a suggestion

"Traxler"

Upon arrival at the Traxler building Tommy and Lance were instructed from their vehicles in the same fashion as Luigi had been earlier that day. Tommy fought his wish to slay the man giving him the directions to the room he had visited once already, burst in through the wooden door and beat every answer he wanted out of Andreas Traxler. H had told him plenty, but there was more that needed to be uncovered. Traxler was working for Sonne Forelli, presumably to bring Tommy down a peg or two so he'd turn to the family for help, definately to keep an eye on the new man about town and to feed information back on how well he was doing. But was it Traxler who had cleaned up the alley? And if so where was everything, how safe was Tommy from the fallout of that mess? Another important question was whether Tony had been treated with the respect he deserved, and whether Tommy would be able to pay his respects. The door of the office loomed ahead and Tommy and Lance were invited inside.

"Good afternoon Mr, what was it now..."

Andreas wasn't given a chance to finish. Tommy shot the guard behind the desk in the leg and immidiately trained his gun on Andreas himself while Lance waited behind the door for their tour guide to burst back inside and whipped him on the back of the head with his pistol. Andreas cried out but Tommy warned him.

"I'm not joking around here Andreas, you call off any guards you just got the attention of right now and tell them that everything is fine, or I will kill every single one of them that walks through that door."

Traxler pushed a button on his desk and talked into a PA type system

"Stay where you are, the system malfunctioned, there is nothing to be alarmed about."

"Good, now, you and I need to have a little talk." Tommy spun the chair Luigi had sat on round and dropped on it, leaning menecingly over the back. "First things first I want to know if it was you who cleaned the alley way." Tommy signalled to Lance to wait outside the door and Lance did so, gun cocked in his hand ready for any interruptions.

"Yes, it was me." Traxler's voice had the pretend bravado of a man faking cofidence in it. "I sent my men after you and when they did not return within their alloted time sent more to find them. It was not hard, the trail you left behind you made me fear the worse had happened before I received the final comfirmation. I was relieved only to find that we were first on the scene and that the police had been too busy with the gridlocked streets to notice three dead men and four wrecked vehicles in an alley. Also, I feel you will be lightened to know that when we arrived the woman who's car you stole was waiting for an officer to see her, take a statement and so on. One of my smarter men took care of that, drove her home and destroyed the statement, after which my source in the police force saw to it that the report for the crime went missing in the system."

"Well, don't expect flowers and chocolates for that." Tommy sneered. "So, you cleaned the alley completely? Everything completely gone?"

"If the police do not know something occured then they will not look for it. And if they are not looking for it it is very easy to dispose of. The cars and the motorcycles are gone for good, never to be seen again. Well, not by anyone other than ocean fish."

"And Tony? The man your goons shot dead?" Tommy hoped the words would sting Andreas as much as they did himself.

"He is to be buried. A friend of a friend is something of an undertaker and is making the arrangements as we speak. He can inform the family if you would like? I may be ruthless but I am not heartless."

"Well, I suppose it would be better from him. I take it that the chase and the shooting will be left out of any explanations?"

"Of course, of course. I am sure that Tony will have died in a most unfortunate car accident leaving it quite impossible for a viewing."

"Very well. I would like to be kept informed on that front as well." Tommy showed a little more emotion than he would have liked to in saying so and immidiately pressed on. "I know you work for Sonne Forelli, I know you knew I wasn't Luigi Salvatore and I know full well that you knew I wasn't selling legit weapons; tell me everything."

"What is there to tell? I first entered this world under the Forelli family in Liberty City as little more than an ass, a hard working immigrant with no money and no job who would do anything for food and a little respect. Soon though I impressed your boss and made him proud of me, and he began to mould me in your absent image. Over time I became favoured and when you were sent here and did not succeed in your simple task I was sent to keep my eye on you for the family. Soon after my arrival however, I saw that the family was never interested in helping me, but instead in hindering me and holding me back. I saw in your example that I could become something from nothing and told the family that I was to leave and start up business on my own, not as a rival but as a potential ally in other pursuits. Sonne told me that such a thing was impossible, but after my insistance and defience of his orders he relented giving me an offer I could not refuse. In return for my solidarity from the family I was to keep you in check, and if necessary bring you down a peg or two to remind you of your rightful place. I managed to place two of my own in your gang and instructed them to drop you in it if things got too smooth and successful for you; I had no idea that they would go so far as they did, I swear!" Tommy's expression remained unchanged. "Immidiately after the party when I heard that they had done as I asked I imagined that you would get into some trouble for something like arms dealing or drugs on your property, so imagine my shock and horror when the truth came out this morning. I punished them gravely for their stupidity at killing a couple of Haitians and leaving them in your tub but sadly it did not take away what had happened." Haitians was all Tommy needed, given their predisposition for negativity towards the newly Cuban alligned Vercetti Gang and violent lash backs at any attempt to reconcile. Things were looking darker than before. Tommy waved his gun at the stalling Traxler to indicate he should carry on.

"I knew your face but knew you did not know mine when you arrived here this morning so when you introduced yourself as this Salvatore character I simply played along. I wanted to help you but to do so directly would have required long explanations such as this one and in crisis situations time is of the essence. I felt responsible for the trouble you were in, it was so much more than I could cope with. Had it been drugs or guns I would have revealed your lies and sent you away but the situation I put you in was much more serious than that. So I bought your stolen guns and"

"That's where I get confused." Tommy leaned closer. "See, I don't have a clue just exactly how you knew those guns were stolen. Unless your goons were at the raid itself nobody knew what we'd taken or what that party was for except those on the job. You knew that they weren't legit, that's why you had me followed right?"

"Wrong. I had you followed because I needed to, for appearance's sake. I told my men I did not trust you and that you needed to be followed to see where you go. But sadly I myself appear to have been infiltrated. The men I sent after you did not follow my orders, they shot at you and tried to kill you when I needed you alive and said so. Who controls them I do not know, but it is, was, no longer me. Obviously I cannot control the dead and the other two are gone, I have neither seen nor heard from them since. I hid my employment by the Forelli family from my employees as I felt it would undermine my own influence and authority. As such many of the people I use and work with are immigrants themselves. They have no knowledge of Vice, or Liberty, or San Andreas or any of the major crime capitols in this country. They have no knowledge of the Vercettis, the Forellis, or any of the other major crime organisations in these cities. That makes them perfect for my needs. And in a strange and almost ironic way made them perfect for yours also. I fear that another organisation that has issues here in Vice is using my organisation as a cover for cruel and ruthless killing and revenge, and I fear that your near miss is the one that has exposed this."

"But my guns?" Tommy didn't want to know about covers and killings and ironic goons, he needed to put to rest this hideous suspicion raising its beastly head within him.

"I was tipped off by my source in the police force."

"Your source? Who is your source?" Tommy's stomach felt heavy with unease.

"I'm afraid I do not know his name, he never tell me."

"What did he tell you?" Tommy was showing his anxiety but didn't care, he needed to find this out.

"That a shipment of stolen arms was coming my way, and that if I wasn't careful I'd not only get ripped off by the dealer, but that the dealer was selling me the guns so he could send in a bent house raid, confiscate the guns back for himself to sell a second time and ship me off to prison also. He is a useful ally behind enemies lines, he has told me many other things before now that have saved my skin."

Tommy was sweating ice, his hand was shaking so as to warrent taking his finger off the trigger. His stomach was pitted completely as if it were in his hips. It couldn't be.

"If your man doesn't have a name what do you call him?" The words seem to need forcing from his dry lips.

"I call him only by a code letter from the alphabet."

"Which one?" Tommy knew he needn't ask, but he had to hear it come from the mouth of another, to confirm it.

"H"


	8. A Merciless Employer

**City of Vice – The Crisis**

**Chapter eight, A Merciless Employer**

Hate boiled Tommy's vains, his blood seared through him as if it were fire. One year Tommy had trusted H, one year H had been close to the inside. For one whole entire year Tommy had used H's position to make gains and quash enemies. On more than one occasion H had given Tommy information that saved his life. And yet, for any amount of this year H had been playing for the enemy at exactly the same time. How much had H told Andreas? Did Andreas know everything of Tommy's plans? It sounded more than likely. H had told him about the dodgy deal, the planned raid, the plan to resell the conifiscated arms, what was to say he hadn't told him of other plans in the pipelines. Is this how the Traxler gang had survived the constant and unrelenting cleaning up of Vice City the Vercetti gang had been doing? With a little help from a mob boss in Liberty and a bent cop in Vice? Sure the Traxler's had posed little threat but that was of no concern to Tommy, he had simply been crushing all those who did not operate within his terms, destroying those who would not call themselves allies. He had heard of the Traxler gang already, and tried to rid the city of them once before. This must explain why his efforts had been in vain - H would have delivered a heads up and Sonne would have given them protection. Tommy decided to press on in his pursuit of answers, there was more to be asked.

"So H told you about the guns, I know that. I need to know exactly what else he told you and when." Tommy's finger was back on the trigger and Andreas had noticed. He gulped hard and began to gabble everything he knew to Tommy. It came to pass that Tommy's fears had been unnecessary, and that H had told Andreas only of the stolen arms deal and of the plan to take out his gang earlier in the year. Everything else had been to do with other people, people who no longer existed or were serving long terms upstate, people Tommy had never heard of. Traxler was a dealer in imports and exports, something Tommy was not currently exploring, and as such their worlds seemed only to touch upon this one point, their common ally. Tommy stood up and made to leave when Andreas suddenly broke down and began wailing and gasping for breath between his words.

"Please, you cannot just leave, you must protect me surely? You cannot simply leave me here, I will be killed for failing to perform my own very simple task, you know Sonne does not take failure lightly! He will surely know I have confessed my employment to you and that will be the end. Please do not just leave, you must give me protection!"

"Protection?! You insane? Listen to me and listen good Andreas Traxler, you made your bed, sleep in it. I didn't force you to spy for Sonne Forelli, you chose to do that yourself. You're the one who's to blame here. I know that Sonne doesn't like people making mistakes, and that he hates people failing completely but I can't and won't protect you for something you did to yourself. I've been merciful here Traxler, I could have killed you the second I found out what I wanted, but I'm not that kind. I'm ruthless, but I'm not heartless." A wry smile passed Tommy's lips as he quoted the man he was half tormenting, half feeling sorry for. "Look, I owe you nothing, if anything you owe me. _Your_ men killed two Haitians and dumped them butchered in my bathtub. _Your_ men flew after me and Tony and killed him and nearly killed me." Andreas made to object. "And I don't give a fuck if they weren't following your orders, it's your responsibility to not let murderous criminals into your gang wouldn't you say?!" No objection. "It's you that's got me into this entire fucking mess and that is one big reason I'm keeping you alive. Some things are worse than death Andreas, like the fear of having revenge thrust upon you at an unknown hour. Or the hiding of failure from a merciless and cruel employer. Or the knowledge that you owe Tommy Vercetti and he could cash in at any time of any day." Tommy was enjoying himself now, his anger at H was fueling his cruelty of Andreas.

"But that is surely why you must protect me Tommy! If I were to die at the hands of Sonne Forelli you would never have your repayment, your compensations would be lost for ever." Andreas was pleading, and making no attempt to hide the fact.

"If, and let us speak hypothetically for a minute, you were to die at the hands of your boss Mr Forelli, then I would not care whether I had been paid or not. Debts like yours are rarely paid in full and you know that. Yours is the debt that hangs around your neck for the rest of your, or my, natural life. It is the debt that can be cashed in on right until you are on your death bed. And if I'm being totally honest, I think I prefer the idea that you are scared to death of trying to hide your miserable failure from Sonne." Tommy's voice was ice cold. He was truely enjoying himself, punishing a man for whom the fear of violence was worse than the act itself. But a small voice was still present inside of him saying that it was not Andreas that needed to be punished like this. There was another, someone who had betrayed Tommy's trust for a year, someone who was becoming something of a secret even to one who thought he knew him well. The voice decided that it was time to end this, Andreas was not to suffer like this for long, he was not the one to blame completely. Maybe it was all true, that the men he had used to infiltrate the Vercetti gang and the men he had sent after Tommy that morning were out of his control. If that was true Tommy needed to know who was in control. He couldn't use H, he needed a different source of information for this question. Tommy put Andreas out of his misery.

"Listen carefully Andreas." Tommy looked deep into the man's eyes in a hope to show his sincerety. "Sonne will kill you if and when he finds out about out little chat. But there's a place that the family find difficult to get to people like you. Not many of the Forelli gang if any are upstate from Vice City, everyone serves up in Liberty right?" Andreas nodded slowly as if he almost understood. "So I can't protect you, but maybe you can protect yourself. Say you were found in possession of $40,000 of stolen weapons, all of which trace back to a huge arms theft last night, what would happen to you then?"

"I would be, arrested?" Andreas spoke very slowly, as if he was making sure each word was the correct one.

"You would. And then you would be questioned. Now, if you were to keep your mouth shut about your family ties I imagine that your sentence mightn't be a friendly and lenient one, but you'd be upstate and relatively safe yes?" Tommy nodded and Andreas followed suite. "Sonne hears of your unfortunate incarceration, hears that his name was never mentioned and you never know, he may see fit to be a little forgiving."

"As in, forget that I revealed myself to you?"

"Exactly that." Tommy paused for a good 30 seconds and then, stepping over the unconcious henceman on the dusty floor opened the door, patted Lance on the back and together they left the battered and run down house the same way they had entered.

Sat in the main living room of Vercetti Mansion Tommy was racking his brains as to who could be in charge of these small fry gang members that were running wild. Was it simply a matter of having ideas above their station, a feeling that they didn't need to take orders from anyone and were breaking away from their gang? Could it be that maybe they thought their boss was merciful and compassionate where he should be a cruel and heartless Atilla and trying to show him the error of his ways? A far fetched idea hit Tommy that maybe there was someone higher up than Andreas controlling these mini rebels and using them to take out big shot targets knowing that they would be expendable in the highly unlikely event they were caught. But was it so far fetched? Tommy decided it was time to do some digging. Springing from his seat he shot through the front door and into the unearthly still of the all too calm evening air.

He parked up outside the back door and hammered until it opened. The man that opened it recognised him and allowed him in. Tommy walked quickly through the winding back corridors until he hit the staircase he was looking for. Two at a time he ran up and opened the office door infront of him. Kent Paul span round in his seat in midair.

"Christ mate you propa made me jump!" His cockney accent was as beautiful as Tommy remembered. "You trynna give me 'eart attack?!"

"I need some info and I need it now Kent."

"Oh aye, and what pray tell it in is for me?"

"Anything, I don't care, it's important I find out now!" Tommy had been in such a rush to get to Kent he had completely neglected to bring any bartering chips with him. Anything seemed to suffice mind, and Kent smiled and sat back down again.

"Sit down Tommy mate, tell me what's the ma''er". Tommy sat opposite and began.

"You know anything about big shot gang members getting killed in annonymous hits? Think people getting killed and dumped in enemy territory, like someone's trying to start something between two big gangs, but no one actually knows who killed who." Tommy looked hopeful. Kent took a moment to think about it and then said

"Yeh, I 'eard somefink like that was 'appening. Why'd you ask? 'appen to you 'as it?"

"Nearly. Four men on motorcycles emptied Uzis into the side of mine and Tony's cars. I survived, two of them rode away." The words still stung. Tommy had seen so much death and yet Tony's felt like it would be with him for ever.

"Sounds abou' wight. Basically, what I've 'eard's been 'appening is these four geezers 'ave been joining little gangs, you know the kind nobody looks at twice cause you know they'll be gone by the end of the year, and then taking 'it orders from someone in the force. I reckon..."

"Someone in the force? You mean the police?" Tommy couldn't believe what he had heard.

"Yeh, someone in the police is sending out 'its to these guys. Word on the street is he's taking orders from someone who's got interests in Vice and doesn't want anyone posing a freat. So, 'e takes out an 'igh ranking soldier boy from one side, dumps 'im on the other side and lets the madness reign. Clever if you ask me."

"Clever indeed." Tommy was thinking outloud. "Sounds like clever I know aswell. Someone that takes out all the competition so he can rule in peace. And he'd have an interest in Vice. It must be."

"Must be what mate?" Tommy had forgotten that Kent was still there and was jarred back into the room. Kent was looking at him sideways, clearly not understanding what to Tommy was as clear as day.

"Must be me that's interesting. Must be Sonne that's doing it."

"Allwight, say Sonne is into it. Who's 'is 'it man? Who's the one giving the final orders to protect and serve?"

All too easily the suspicious beast reared its head again and Tommy realised that the only way he would figure everything out, the only way he would arrive at the truth was to go and see H. If anyone within the police was working for Sonne Forelli H would surely know. Tommy didn't dare think about the other option. He thanked Kent and told him he'd see him later to thank him properly, turned on his heel and rushed from the office, down the stairs, out through the corridor maze and back into the evening. It was just starting to rain, and little dark patches were forming on Tommy's shirt and trousers. He hopped into his car and started the engine, driving as fast as possible in the wet conditions back to the mansion to pick up what he needed.

The drive home gave Tommy too much time to think and the more he thought about it the more it all made sense. His blood was getting hot again as he focused on the betrayal and abuse of trust he had suffered at the hands of H. By the time he arrived at the mansion it was all he could do to refill his Colt with bullets without spilling them, grab a rain jacket and storm out of the house. Lance caught him on the way out and seeing Tommy's expression filled with anxiety.

"Where are you going looking like that Tommy?" Lance did his best to look Tommy in the eye. Tommy didn't reply and merely pushed past Lance and got into his car. Lance knew that where ever he was going it wasn't going to be good and quickly followed him in his own car. The two drove fast, weaving through the evening traffic caught in the sudden storm, their lights barely helping as the rain beat down on their windscreens too fast for the wipers to manage. Every few minutes the entire city lit up with a whip crack of lightning and almost immidiately afterwards all that could be heard was the deep bassy sub thunder growling away in the sky right above them. The street lights and the car lights became almost indistinguishable after a time and Lance was having a hard time keeping the Sabre Turbo in sight, it's green paint helping it blend in with the night, the white lines down its body the only help he had. Lance suddenly tuned into the stereo and felt a pang of memory; Self Control was the song today had started with. He wondered just where Tommy was going and how much self control he would be able to exercise there. There was no point in hoping for much, Lance had seen that face before, it was a face that said revenge.

After maybe twenty minutes of driving they pulled up alongside a rather nice house, no mansion but no town house either, with completely detatched neighbours on either side. Lance skidded to a halt on the soaked tarmac and realising he was about to get just as wet hunched his shoulders as he jumped from the car. He saw under the porch light Tommy banging on the door with all his might, and ran towards him. Lance got within two feet of his ward when the door opened and he saw Tommy grab H by the throat, walk him inside and, as Lance got to it, his foot kick the door shut hard. Rubbing his forehead where the door had hit him, Lance looked down at the dry floor under the large awning over the front of the house. Fear and regret drained him of all his energy and he felt even colder than before. He could have stopped this, he could have. His car was faster, he knew that Tommy would come here sooner or later, he had known about H's other employer. This is why he had never told Tommy, he knew Tommy too well. He knew that Tommy would have come here to do exactly what he was here to do know. And more than anything else, Lance knew that that fleeting glance in the doorway would more than likely be the last time he saw H alive.


	9. Loyal Friends

**City of Vice – The Crisis**

**Chapter nine, Loyal Friends**

Tommy landed hard on top of H's body, his gun pressed so hard into his once friend's neck the muzzle was almost completely lost. The whole hallway was filled with noise but there were no words - just shouts, screams, scratching and scraping. H's eyes were screwed shut in pain, his mouth was open in a silent protest. He had been taken completely by surprise and it showed. H was lying almost exactly halfway down his hall between the front door and the stair case. To his left he could see the television in his living room flashing away a nondescript blue picture. To his right was the door to his kitchen. And he knew that upstairs, almost certainly awake by now was his wife, and that any second she would come down the stairs and see this horror movie scene play out before her. A faint and distant voice was shouting something, H could just hear it over the noises of the hallway; it sounded like someone saying don't move, stay put, you're safer where you are. He had no time to think about it once he had focused in on it as the heavy barrel of the Colt Python Tommy swiped across his face, he felt his teeth turn to gristle, his cheek and jaw bones turn to sand, his skin turn to flame. Agony swept over him like a blanket and for the first time he looked at Tommy's eyes and agony was joined by utter terror. He searched for words but nothing came through his throat, suddenly bone dry as if the whiskey he had left to answer the door had evaporated from inside of him. His eyes talked where his mouth failed and Tommy stopped himself from bringing the gun down into the very centre of his face.

"You bastard." Tommy's voice was so quiet it was almost lost amid the noises of shouting from outside, the television from the other room, footsteps upstairs and the general noise of a scuffle settling in the small yet noticable reverb of the hallway. It was so quiet that it was more unsettling than if he had been screaming at the top of his voice, and Tommy saw this in H's face. "You utter bastard. You set me up. You, _you_, of all people in this world, it was _you_ that nearly had me die today. _You_ nearly had me topple from the top and fall from grace into my grave. _You_ are the reason that my friend Tony is DEAD!" Tommy found it very hard to control his anger and emotion regards Tony, knowing that he had the power of life and death of the man that had brought about his end. Tommy's eyes glowed with this power and H's fear became ever more apparent. He opened and closed his mouth as if to speak but nothing but clicks and pops came out. "Don't bother." Tommy's voice was as calm as he could muster. "Don't bother you, you, you shit. To think I ever put my trust in you, to think I ever let you into my confidence. Do you have any idea what you've done?" The question seemed moot but Tommy wasn't thinking straight. Finally H managed a word.

"Yes."

"I though that you were my friend H, I though that I could trust you! But NO! Here I am to kill you because you're nothing more than a double crossing bastard!"

"K-k-k-kill me?" H was slowly regaining his powers of speech.

"Yes kill you. Kill you like the scum you are. Leave you here for your pretty little princess to find when we've left. Walk away scot free from your murder without a spot of evidence to point in my direction. You know how it all works H, I kill I clean up I walk away. How many murder charges have you had to rescue me from? How many?"

A short pause before the gun that had so far been waving around pointed towards a quicker response.

"None. None, none."

"Exactly! None! Because you can't catch me H, nobody can fucking catch me - I'm unfuckingtouchable!!" Tommy held his hands like some twisted messiah at this statement and sat back on his heels. H took this oppurtunity to take a few deeper breaths. Tommy looked back at his friend. "Not you, not Lance, not the police, not Sonne, not the entire fucking world H, NOBODY CAN TOUCH TOMMY VERCETTI!!" The shouting outside got a little louder, a little more urgent. Tommy's voice had turned from calm to maniacal and soft to loud. Unsettling as his previous voice had been, H could see that it had been borne of control. This new louder Tommy was out of control.

And as suddenly as it had come, it went.

"But you can hurt me." Tommy sank into his legs, all of his weight now on H's lower torso, arms limp by his sides. "Oh yes H, you can _hurt_ Tommy Vercetti, that much is true. And what a job you did. What a job you did." Tommy's eyes were closed, his head was shaking slowly, his body twitched with the turmoil of emotions running through him. He threw his head back and let out a wail that turned into an agressive cry, a cry that lifted his body, his hand, his gun. It peaked and at the same moment H felt all of his face sink inwards, cold metal mixed with hot blood, skin tore and bone broke. The gun rose out of his nose and again came crashing down at full speed accompianed by a great cry. H could see Tommy's sweat and tears dripping down onto his face, but couldn't tell whether it was them or the blood he could feel. A third time the gun crashed into H's face, this time lower and forcing him to swallow the teeth it smashed from his mouth, tearing through his lip and slicing his tongue. To protest was impossible, his hands were bruised from the feeble attempt he had made at stopping the first blow, his arms the second and his face was so sunk and swollen that any attempts at speaking would have been pointless. He spat out the teeth and blood and tongue that sat on his tonsils and Tommy didn't even flinch at the sight, nor the feeling of it land on his neck and face, his shirt and his arms. Tommy lunged forwards and H both feared and prayed for the end but instead Tommy through his arms around him, pulled him up close and began to wail.

Tight in the hug forced upon him by his friend, H's ear was pressed close to Tommy's mouth. Slowly Tommy calmed and began to whisper.

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I know you betrayed me, I know you sold me out. But this? This is too much. Too much for a friend like you. I loved you H, like a brother almost. You were so close. So very close. You knew everything and I made sure of that. Lance said 'Don't let him in too much' but I trusted you, I knew you were good. Honest. Loyal. Which is why you hurt me H. That's why it hurts. 'Cause I thought you were loyal. Loyal to me, not that scum bag bastard Sonne. Loyal to someone who could protect and provide for you. Loyal to someone who spared your life and _did_ protect and provide for you. If I asked you right now why what would you say?" No answer. "If I asked you H right now, here and now, why did you decide to sell me out to Sonne Forelli what would you say to me?"

Slowly from within a sickening gurgle came a small string of words

"You...are the...bastard here...Tommy."

Tommy almost threw H to the floor in breaking their bond.

"WHAT?!"

"I said...you...are the bastard. You kept...me prisoner...for this last year. All I wanted...was to...escape...get away...take my family and leave. But you...you said no. You wanted your...friend close...and your enemy closer. Making sure...I would never...testify against you...for that botched raid. You ego...tistical...shit. Thinking...all this time...that I...sold you out" H literally spat the words at Tommy "when all I...have been doing...is making things...easy for Sonne...when he arrives. You were never...on Sonne's...hit list. You were...on...mine." H could feel his blood get hotter, at odds with the slowly drying blood on his face and neck. His swollen face was throbbing, his arms and hands pulsing. His head was swimming from a mixture of hatred, excitement and concussion. This was it - the big kill. Now he would get his chance to lay it all out infront of Tommy, to tell him how he had felt for the last year. No longer was he trapped by his own fear, his fear of retribution, of comeback; the vengence was half-done already, why not bring the fat lady on stage? It had taken him all of his strength and will to fake his thanks back at the station earlier that day, to pretend he was grateful for Tommy's 'kindness'.

"Once...I was a good cop...never took a bribe...never did a deal...I used my head...and my head alone...to make arrests. Then there was you...you shot me...in the hip...nearly had me killed...but for whatever...twisted reason...you thought better of it...called your men off me...shoed the vultures. I survived...and that was when...I knew I wanted to leave...get out...never come back. I was willing...to forsake my morales...for just one instance...not to testify...not to ID you...just to stay quiet. But _you_ had it different...in your head. You decided I was...too big a risk. You decided that I should become...your little work monkey...feeding you info...feeding your ego...helping you kill...steal...sell...and get away with it. I decided...early on...that given any chance...I'd have revenge.

"At first...it was just to...take you down a peg...or two...and escape you...get away with my family. But as the months...went on...the urge to see you dead...it grew. It took over. Until finally...I could think...of little else. I knew that...to rid myself...of you...I would need...to kill you. You created a golum...Tommy...and now you're going to pay. True...I'll be gone and...I won't see...but I'll know...my family is safe...safe from you. Because when...Sonne Forelli...contacted me...and asked me...to start taking down competition...and ease his entry to Vice...I knew I could see you dead. I set up Andreas...I knew he...was looking...to take you down...as well...and loaded his gang with...my little hit squad...and told them to...take those Haitians...and put them...in your house. When you rang me...and asked for help...selling arms to...a small gang...I knew there...and then...that I would bring...you down. I gave you Andreas...then warned him about you...then sent my men...to kill you. You see...Andreas thinks...that he controlled...those men that killed...those Haitians...and those men...that chased you on dirt bikes...but he never had...the final say...on anything they did. They were my men...and it was me...that told them to butcher...those Haitians...leave them with you...and kill you in the alley...when you sold your...stolen guns to Traxler.

"I never thought...you'd survive the raid...on the mansion...but everyone gets...lucky once...right? But killing two of...my hit men...was taking the piss...lucky twice? Thankfully...the other two...got to me quick...and we cleaned...the alley...as fast as possible...using Andreas' gang. I started to think...that maybe...you would come through...and avoid...my revenge. But even you...can't walk on water...Tommy Vercetti. Oh what I could...tell you I know...about your friends...your loyal friends...your loyal friends that...will get you killed...sooner rather...than later. And so...there are two things...I take as my solice...as I die...the fact my children are away...and will never...see their father...like this...and the fact...that I know...and have heard...from Sonne's own lips...that one of your...so called friends..._is_ selling you out...as we speak. You will die...Tommy...and die soon. Sonne may not be...baying for your blood...but I know you...and I know that...your great plan...your untouchable scheme...will be your downfall. Keeping your enemies close...works both ways..."

Tommy stood up and looked at H as his breathing slowed, his eyes began to close and his body started to relax. Tears, sweat, blood, all covered Tommy's face and hands, neck and clothes, and his gun had flesh, tongue and teeth stuck to it. He turned away from his friend, and started to walk towards the door. The shouting outside was now one of many noises including cars and stereoes. His hand touching the handle, Tommy turned to look at H one last time, and said quietly

"You hate me that much? And yet you were too scared to say anything until now? You could have simply turned me in, given your job and your position there; why didn't you?"

"And expose...myself...as a crooked...cop?" H's voice was breathy and barely there.

"You really were, weren't you? Working for me, for Sonne, for yourself. But know this Daniel Houser; you are the only person in my organisation that slipped the net. You are the only so called friend of mine that would have gotten me killed" Tommy's voice started to raise as the anger crept back inside of him. "I know you're lying to me to rile me, nobody but you is betraying me, you hear? NOBODY!" Tommy didn't take accusations of ignorance and insubordance lightly, betrayal of trust being possibly the most cardinal of sins in his book. "You are the only one that has done this to me, and don't you ever, EVER, accuse ANYONE of being the same piece of shit excuse for a human YOU ARE, **YOU UNDERSTAND?!**" How dare this shit of a man, this specimen, this twisted little fuck even suggest that there were others like him. Others that would betray. Others that would conceal. Others that were as worthless and despicable. Of all the things in the world, only a few were likely to make Tommy madder than the suggestion that he was too stupid or egotistical or trusting to see betrayal within his elite circle of friends. Tommy hand picked his friends, made a point of making sure they were loyal and to be trusted implicitly. Mercedes whom he loved, Lance his No. 2, Tony his closest and most loyal soldier friend. Tony. The train of thought that led him here brought Tommy back to his original and intense hatred of everything about H. The man lying pathetic on the floor before him deserved so much worse than death on behalf of Tony. Tony had died in Tommy's place. Tony was gone and H was to blame. His blood boiled with the same intensity as when he had exploded into the house, and it took all of his self control to keep a grip on the handle and think about leaving. He was turning the handle in his hand when he just about heard Daniel speak again.

"Don't...believe...me...huh? You'll...see. Ever...wondered...why...Mercedes...just...up...and...left?"

"Don't."

"Ever...thought...that...maybe...she...could...see...where...you...could...not?"

"Stop it."

"Ever...thought...that...maybe...she...thought...you...stupid...for...being...so...blind?"

"ENOUGH!"

"Ever...thought...that...maybe...she...knows...that..."

But Daniel's last words were lost forever as Tommy descended upon him, raining hammer blow after hammer blow into his face, teeth breaking, bones snapping, skin ripping and flesh tearing. Blood, sweat and tears smeared across the floor in every direction. Soon, Tommy's gun was starting to hit the floor under where Daniel's head had been and slowly he got up. Covered in blood, flesh, bone and teeth he walked calmly and slowly to the door, breathing very slowly. He touched the door handle and, bloody hand slipping as he did so, turned it slowly and opened it. Lance looked at him as he walked out into the night, out from the shelter of the awning and into the stair rod storm that battered the cars and pavement around him. Red water poured from his face, his neck, his arms, and walking straight past his car, Lance nodded to one of his commrades. Taking Tommy by the arm, he was guided into the passenger seat of a gang member's Sentinal and driven home. Lance walked into the house, and as the rest of the gang went to work on the second major clean up of the day, he went to the stairs and started up them to find Daniel Houser's wife.


	10. A Flower in a Sea of Green

**City of Vice – The Crisis**

**Chapter ten, A Flower in a Sea of Green**

Two days later the whole day seemed little more than a vaguely remembered nightmare, the colours and noises drained and muffled, the details hazy. Tommy was stood on a small patch of land to the east of the docks. Lance had come to the island with him, and was waiting by the boat, his voice drifting out to sea as he made a phone call. Tommy looked down upon the single blue flower almost lost amid the sea of green around him. It bent gently with the breeze. He wondered if that for all his hard work and pain and suffering, his constant fear and violence, he may one day end up a small flower in a sea of green. How Tommy had been led here was running through his mind, and he replayed the phone conversation again in his head.

"Good evening Mr Vercetti, it is Andreas Traxler speaking. I do not wish to sound rude but it would mean much to me if you would allow me the privilege of a one sided conversation, it would make things much easier you see.

"As this is to be the last time you will hear my voice I wish you to know that after I have made this call I will be making my way to the police station and turning myself, and my newly acquired 40,000 worth of stolen firearms, into the judicial system for whatever punishment and safety it can afford me. I hope that they will not be too harsh upon me if I will not tell them of you or of the family, but you understand why I must stay silent. As this is to be the second to last thing I do in the world of freedom I have decided that it should be an entirely good one. Before this my actions have been selfish, all attributable to personal gain, the gaining of power, respect and money. I know now that the correct way to gain these things is to earn them through hard and fair work, not through extortion and violence and fear. People have no respect for the gangster any more, if they ever had any, and it is all too late I learn this. True respect is not born of a fear of violent action, but of a genuine appreciation and awe. People respect those who are truthful when lies would make life easier, those who are noble and stand up when humility and shrinking away would be easier, those who when given a crisis are calm and collected and take the mantle of responsibility without complaint and do what must be done, rather than those who run away and hide their heads in the sand. I realise now and only now that I have never had that respect, and most likely will have to wait for another life time for it. The world is cruel to those who make mistakes, and I have made many. I chose my friends wrong, my actions wrong and my path through life wrong. But this is the peace I make with the world. A strange peace I will grant you, but a peace nonetheless. Some may question how a man makes peace with the world by giving a mere location to a fellow gangster but that is to misinterpret what it is I am doing. I am giving you more than just a location, I am giving you a chance to see the world in a new way. I hope that when you arrive at the place I am to tell you of you will see it as I did. And more than anything Tommy, I hope that when you return from this place you will have made an important decision that will affect your life forever.

"If you travel out of Vice City Port to the East you will see a group of small islands. Upon one of these islands is a large green field, surrounded by wild bushes but devoid of any plants or flowers. Except for one single blue flower that grows in the centre. The flower will become important Tommy, but first I have an important confession to make.

"You remember how earlier today I told you that the man that was taking care of your friend, I believe his name was Tony, was an undertaker of sorts? Well, what I mean by that is that the man has a black suit and a strong stomach. He is no undertaker, of course you probably knew that, but merely a man who provides a service similar to that of an undertaker. He buries people and holds funerals for family members. He buys burial plots and provides headstones with beautiful inscriptions upon them. But you and I both know that people in our world are rarely buried in a burial plot, with their name on a stone above their heads. But our families need not know this. And that is why I gave this man the body of your friend. His family will believe he died whilst driving for his job. They will believe that the police have opened and closed a brief investigation that proves it was a simple, yet tragic, accident. You will know that this is not true, and as such I feel it would be insulting to both you and his memory if I left you to believe that he was buried in the Vice City Cemetery under a headstone that bears his name. And so I come back to the flower. If you are as clever as I believe you to be I should not need to spell it out any further. I give you more than just a flower in a sea of green Mr Vercetti, I give you your friend.

"I felt it would have been unforgivable of me to allow your friend to spend eternal rest with those who gave it to him. As such, the men responsible for his death are elsewhere. As I said in a previous meeting, I may be ruthless but I am not heartless. I sincerely urge you to reconsider your life as it stands, as I did standing where you will find your flower. I have lost all those I love and ever loved through the life I chose for myself. Nobody forced me to become who I became, and it is because of who I became I have lost my friends, my family, my loved ones, and now finally, my freedom. I no longer respect myself, and I hope that nobody respects me, for I am ashamed when I think back to things I have done and tried to justify in the context of my work. It is easy to justify anything we do in our lives, I can justify the way I earn my money much like you can also. I can justify beating a man who owes me money to the brink of death, stealing that which I cannot have and pulling the trigger when the target is in my sights. But just because we can justify something does not make it right. I have killed people, people who wronged me, fought me and even people I did not know. I have committed murder for revenge, to make statements and sometimes even because I was told to do so by the Forellis. I have held more money in my hands than I ever knew what to do with. I have watched people I sell drugs to whither away and die through addiction and overdose, and it is only now that their ghosts, the ghosts of those who's lives I have destroyed or ended haunt me. My life has been one bad decision after another, and not once at any turn has my hand been forced. I have made myself into the creature I despise today. Where I am going there is likely to be no return. I am no spring chicken, and no judge or District Attorney will be lenient on a man who could quite easily bring down two of the most powerful and dangerous crime family organisations in the entire country but for his own safety on the inside keeps his mouth shut.

"For that is why I do this. Not because I feel I owe you any more. I have given you the truth, your friend and a choice, and I leave you with those. If a deal comes available which secures me incarceration out of the reach of the Forelli family and protection akin to completely vanishing from all existence upon my release I will sing like a choir boy. But while no such deal exists you, and the Forellis, are safe from testimony from me. One final decision I make for personal gain. I sincerely hope that you consider everything I have said and if I could ask you to do one more thing other than visit your friend for me tonight, it is call your loved ones and make your peace. Bring them back into your life if you can, because it is only now I realise that there is nothing more important in this entire world than family and friends.

"Thank you Tommy for giving me this second chance. Irony has it that without you I would not be alive, and yet it is you I feared the most. In sparing my life you nearly killed me, and yet in trying to save your own you have saved mine. Finish the job Tommy, and save yourself completely.

"Good bye Tommy Vercetti, take care of yourself and remember, Mercedes loves you a great deal. Show her you want her back and include her in your life again. You will need her if the future has in store for you what I fear it may."

Tommy squeezed his hand as he remembered this last sentence. Mercedes turned to him and smiled, and squeezed back. Together they turned to look back at the docks, now silhouetted against the great red sun set Vice City was famous for and held each other tenderly. So engrossed were the happy couple that on the edge of the field Lance's phone call was going completely unnoticed.

"...so I'd seriously reconsider who you employ and your timetable of events; we had a few fairly close calls the other day, any one of which would have had you kissing goodbye to your money. I will, goodbye Mr. Forelli."


End file.
